Lobelia's Unexpected Journey (and the Dwarves' Unexpected Nightmare)
by tweetzone86
Summary: Everyone knows how Bilbo Baggins was visited by Gandalf the Grey, and the next evening went on an adventure with 13 dwarves. But what if Bilbo was not the hobbit who opened the door? Hilarity ensues as Lobelia Sackville-Baggins finds herself part of the quest to slay the dragon and retake the mountain. It doesn't take long for the dwarves to regret bringing the "Dragon Lady" along!
1. Chapter 1

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins considered herself a respectable hobbit. Sure, she had little patience for insolence, and a certain fondness of shiny things that was most certainly not akin to hobbits. She also had a quick temper and a tendency to make everyone she passed quake in their boots, or would have, if hobbits took it upon themselves to wear shoes. Seeing as how they had thick leathery soles about their feet and they were also covered in a fine downy hair that kept them warm even in the snow, hobbits rarely if ever wore boots.

If there was one thing she wanted more than anything, it was a certain smial called Bag End. She had coveted it from the day it was built by Bungo Baggins for his new bride, Belladonna Took, and was bound and determined to make it her own. Bag End was rumored to be the most splendid smial in the entire Shire, full of rooms and windows and taking up the entirety of the crown of the Hill, as the hobbits called it.

However fate, while it generally hadn't been unkind to her, had left her with a simple little hobbit hole, not lavish by any means. Certainly not as lavish as that wonderful smial she could see from her back door every morning. Oh, how she wanted that lovely smial for herself!

But in the meantime, she had taken it upon herself to swipe a few silver spoons in her pocket every time she came visiting, always when there was a large gathering in the infamous hobbit hole, so that no one could simply pin it on her, or at the very least, notice her do it.

And if Bungo or Belladonna had ever given any indication that they knew it was her, they never voiced it aloud to anyone. Whether because they were simple gentlehobbits who despised conflict and hated confrontation, or they decided that a few spoons weren't that big of an issue, Lobelia couldn't say. All she knew is she had quite the collection of silver spoons by the time their son, Bilbo Baggins, came of age.

Alas, Bungo and Belladonna were not free to enjoy a long life within their lovely home, for it was the summer after their only son, Bilbo, came of age (which for hobbits was the age of 33), that Bungo and his wife drowned in a boating accident on the Brandywine river. For neither of them could swim, and it was only by sheer accident that they had ended up in the boat in the first place, the bridge over the river having been washed out in a storm while they were visiting their relatives.

Unfortunately for Lobelia, who saw this as the perfect chance to acquire that lovely splendid home that she had coveted for so many years, Bilbo had ended up not joining his mother and father while visiting their distant kin in Buckland, choosing to visit his Took relatives instead. Having been the surviving son, he inherited Bag End and all its contents, much to the seething of a certain formidable hobbit woman.

Her wrath at being denied this auspicious residence had every hobbit avoiding her as much as possible. When they would see her walking up the paths ahead of them, every hobbit, from the oldest to the youngest walking child would give her wide berth. In those days, she no longer managed to wear the façade of being a gentle hobbit. Rather, if she hadn't had hobbits quaking in their hobbit feet at her temper before, she certainly did now.

Wielding her umbrella, which the hobbit children were learning could most effectively be just as efficient as any sword of legend when it came to inflicting pain (especially on ears, which were frequently boxed at the slightest provocation), Lobelia was a whirlwind to be reckoned with. She could achieve a good mood, if it could be counted as a good mood for her, and even be rather pleasant, as long as no one dared to mention the words Bilbo, Baggins, Bag End, well, one gets the idea.

She rarely received visitors, no doubt since rumors of a certain set of missing silverware began to spread through the Shire. Apparently, while his parents were willing to let things slide in that particular instance, Bilbo had noticed it when, at the age of 50, he had held quite the party at his Smial to celebrate being half a century old, and in his enthusiasm had brought out his finest china and best silverware. Needless to say, he was rather (unpleasantly) surprised to discover that not a single piece of his mother's coveted silver cutlery remained. He had been forced to use pewter cutlery, which did not suit the fine china at all.

His guests never seemed to take notice thankfully, and remarked in plenty about the magnificent feast, but he had long suspected Lobelia of swiping the cutlery over the years, having nearly caught her himself a few times as a child, and this only confirmed his suspicions. Especially as he had happened to see a flash of silver in her hand one night through her open front window as he passed by, Lobelia pulling a cooled pie out of the window with what (he deduced) was one of his mother's silver knives in her hand. She had slammed the window shut in a hurry, and he had scurried off, having no wish to meet the wrong end of her umbrella.

That, coupled with her relentless pursuit of Bag End, created a massive now-open feud between Bilbo Baggins and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo avoided her at all costs, for she had let her true nature be known to be a very dreadful and unpleasant woman, in Bilbo's eyes. As for Lobelia, she had decided that she had spent enough time pussyfooting her way around trying to acquire Bag End, and decided full on pursuit was the only way to achieve her goal. In a word, she made poor Bilbo's life miserable.

Every single morning and every single evening, she would storm up to the top of the Hill, bang as loud on the door as she could (for she would not even entertain the thought of simply ringing the doorbell, as that would be too polite) and demand in as loud a voice as she could muster, "Bilbo Baggins! I know you're in there! I wish to have a word with you, and I won't take no for an answer! Do you hear me, Bilbo Baggins?"

Of course, every time she would come, Bilbo would take to hiding and refuse to answer the door or even acknowledge that she was there. After a while, her voice would become a bit hoarse, and she would straighten her dress, huff, and storm off. Only to return again the next morning with the same questions and Bilbo again refusing to even admit he was there, let alone let this dragon of a woman in.

This went on for the entire winter, and when spring came and the roads were again decent enough for travelling, Bilbo decided he desperately needed a vacation from the Dragon Lady, as he had dubbed her. So, late one night, after the entire Shire was quiet and all the hobbits were asleep, Bilbo gathered his pack and set off secretly in the night for Frog Morton. He had a cousin there, and as far as he knew Lobelia didn't know of his friendship with Drogo and Primula Baggins. They were distant cousins, but cousins nevertheless, and Bilbo presumed that, while hobbits in general are very interested in genealogy, he seriously doubted that Primula had extensively studied this particular branch of Baggins, as they were not involved or in line for inheritance of Bag End. Not only did he feel that he could have some peace from her in Frog Morton, but he also knew of a way that cut across country, so he was unlikely to meet any hobbits (or very few) until he arrived at his cousin's house. And if he worked it right, he would travel and arrive at night, so as to avoid any other hobbits in Frog Morton itself, at least until Drogo and Primula spread the word that NO ONE was to say a word that Bilbo had come visiting, for surely Lobelia in her wrath would take to following him and plaguing him there as well. By Eru, he would even walk all the way to Rivendell if he could just have a moment's peace from the Dragon Lady, but he did not know the way (having never gone farther than Buckland in the Shire) and he knew it was a hidden realm so even if he had managed to get close, he doubted he could even locate their hidden entrance. So Frog Morton would have to do.

"It's too bad," Bilbo thought to himself as he took one last wistful look at Bag End before turning toward Frog Morton, "That talk with Gandalf this morning about adventures for a moment there actually sounded exciting. But I have had enough to deal with having the Dragon Lady around constantly pestering me, and I seriously doubt that even an adventure could ease this dreadful headache she keeps causing. No, what I need is a nice and quiet place to stay without having her ranting and banging on the door morning and night. Good food, fine company, and a good night's rest. That and my absence should hopefully make her stop pestering me all the time! I hope I locked all the doors soundly." He was sure he did, as he had checked three times, and since Bag End was at the top of the Hill, there was little chance anyone would try to break in for fear of being spotted.

He turned away and continued on his journey, not even beginning to imagine the adventure that should have been his falling into the hands of a formidable middle aged hobbit woman, and the poor dwarves who would have many an unexpected surprise of their own as none other than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins answered the door and stared down the balding dwarf warrior on the front porch of Bag End with an upturned eyebrow, arms crossed and looking less than amused as the great dwarf bowed and said in a gruff voice, "Dwalin, at your service."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for the long delay. This is my first fanfic and I have my hands full with an almost 4 year old and an almost 1 year old plus suffering from fatigue issues, so please don't be mad at me! I know, being a reader myself, I hate to wait so long for updates, so I promise I will try to make sure that I update more frequently! Thanks to all who reviewed and are following-I love happy reviews so please keep them coming! Also, I do not own any of the characters or the Hobbit (just the AU storyline) those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reull Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence. _

Unbeknownst to Bilbo, there was one small window that he had forgotten to lock. It was in his guest bedroom, and he had briefly cracked it open two weeks prior while dusting the room, as it had not been used for a while and the amount of dust was making his nose run and eyes water. He had of course intended to close the window and lock it that evening after the dust had settled and the room had aired out, but had completely forgotten about it. He was usually more careful, but when he had started going toward the guest bedroom to do it, an unexpected knock from a peddler at the door had disrupted his course and he had been forced into trying to convince a rather stubborn dwarf peddler that no he did NOT need swords, or knives, or axes, or whetstones or trinkets or anything else that the tenacious dwarf had presented him.

The dwarf was aghast that he hadn't seen any sort of weapon on the wall in Bilbo's living room, and when he had presented his wares, he simply could not believe that Bilbo possessed little more weaponry than the knife block in his kitchen. So of course, being a dwarf, who's people as a rule not only made beautiful and exquisite jewelry and trinkets, but were among the best weaponsmiths in the entirety of Middle-earth, could not perceive that anyone, especially someone so small as a hobbit, would have absolutely no use for a weapon. The peddler had taken an hour to try and convince Bilbo that he had needed something, ANYTHING, to protect himself or at the very least hunt with or chop wood with (to which Bilbo responded that he had a small chopping axe and it sufficed VERY well thank you! And showed it to the dwarf who, needless to say, was VERY unimpressed by the tiny wooden handled iron headed axe and proceeded to try and sell a highly decorative, much sharper, much heavier (and more battle worthy) axe to him, but ceased when Bilbo couldn't possibly lift the thing more than an inch off the floor no matter how he strained and grew red in the face).

Finally, the dwarf relented and left, seeing that the hobbit was very much against the idea of a weapon (and seemed convinced that the hobbit wouldn't know what to do with a weapon even if he had bothered to buy one in the first place). In that hour, Bilbo had quite forgotten about the window and the guest room entirely, and never paid it a second thought.

Lobelia hadn't been able to sleep that night. For whatever reason, she had tossed and turned, doing everything she could think of to get to sleep but nothing worked. So she had gotten up and walked around in her front garden, hoping that the brief respite would help ease whatever was keeping her awake and allowing her a decent nights rest. Goodness knows she needed it!

That stubborn Bilbo Baggins was far more tenacious than she had given him credit for. She almost couldn't believe that he had been able to stand her crack of dawn and evening interruptions-especially since it was well known that Bilbo Baggins was NOT a morning person. So, being the crafty and devious hobbit she was, she had purposely gotten up every day while it was still dark (an impressive feat given that the days were getting longer), so to be sure that she knocked on his door PRECISELY at dawn. And all it had seemed to do was mess with her sleep patterns and make her even more grumpy and tired and irritable than usual.

Now, as she lazily wandered her garden under the full moon, her gaze wandered up to the coveted Bag End. She dismissed the sight with a loud huff and went to reach for the doorknob in the middle of her front door when she froze.

Something wasn't right. She looked back up at Bag End and noticed that the lamps that illuminated the door were out.

_Strange, _she thought to herself, _Bilbo always leaves them on through the night. Not very practical if you ask me-just a waste of expensive lamp oil that is. _But her curiosity (and the annoying fact that she was more than wide awake now), led her to return into her house and exchange her nightgown for her darkest dress and cloak. If one was to go, say, _explore _a hobbit hole in the middle of the night, one shouldn't be seen by the shirriffs. It would give quite the most interesting explanation, she was sure.

She silently crept out of her hobbit gate and made her way up Bagshot Row until she was standing at the hobbit hole next to Bilbo's. She had heard some late nighters merrymaking in the Green Dragon down across the lake, so it must have only been about 9 or so in the evening, however, with her newfound habit of waking at 4 in the morning to bother Bilbo, she felt it to be much later than she had thought, and had realized almost too late that there were still some slightly drunken hobbits still staggering home from the Green Dragon (_some far more drunk than others_, she scoffed).

She had heard a hobbit carting a jug of what she could only assume to be ale (as hobbits have a keen interest in the brewing of ales and some even professed to have invented the art), and swiftly ducked behind a shrub. The drunk hobbit lazily ambled past her, completely oblivious to her presence, taking a swig from the massive (and from the sounds of it nearly empty) jug in his hands as he passed by Bag End. Looking around to make sure no one else was following, she got up from her hiding place and quick as lightning and much quieter than such, she slipped in Bilbo's gate and stood upon his front porch.

She reached out and felt the cold lamps that she had seen unlit from her front yard, and saw how they were emptied of oil as well. She realized that Bilbo must not have turned them on that evening at all. She peered suspiciously into the windows next to the door, and found the house to be very quiet and undisturbed. She didn't notice a strange symbol glowing down toward the bottom of the door, her interest having been taken by the cold lamps above.

She was puzzled, that is, until she remembered having seen Bilbo from a distance at the market two days ago. He had purchased a leather pack and as he handed the coins, he had glanced up at her before taking off as though a dragon itself was chasing him, ducking into the crowds before she could reach him and give him another tongue lashing about Bag End. She suddenly realized that he had bought a _travelling_ pack, and a smile slowly crept up on her face.

_So that's it then_, she thought smugly. _He thinks he can get away from me by slipping away in the middle of the night. Well, he won't get away from me so easily. I think I will see if I can find a way in and find out where exactly he has gone. Perhaps even help myself to some of those enticing little trinkets of his. It really isn't fair how he had all this wealth handed to him just because his father had had a very advantageous match with one of those rich and foolish Tooks. Very improper for a Took woman to stoop so low as to marry a Baggins. I doubt Old Bungo would have even bothered to even look at that ugly lass if she hadn't had so much money to her name. Tsk, men!_

Lobelia seemed to conveniently forget that she was distantly related to Baggins as well, though she most certainly did not forget that she was close enough kin to Bilbo to be able to claim Bag End should anything happen to him, or she drove him so out of his mind that he begged her to take it from him and leave Hobbiton.

As she rounded the house, checking every door and window and finding them locked, she was beginning to get discouraged and more than a little infuriated at the owner of said hobbit hole, for hobbits as a rule don't often lock their doors, except in Buckland and on the borders of the Shire, but the proximity of the Old Forest had made such a move necessary, as did the unsavory characters that often inhabited the areas around the Shire borders.

Suddenly she found a small window cracked open. She almost squealed like a young hobbit lass at the lucky discovery before realizing that it would give her away instantly, as the sound would be sure to carry all the way across the water in the relative quiet around the hobbit holes. Instead, she pushed the window open and had to climb in a very unladylike manner to get into the window. She felt certain that had any hobbit lads been around, she would have given them a very good show of her behind under her skirt, especially as she steadied her hands on a small table inside the window, only for it to buckle underneath her sending her legs flying up and ankles smacking the top edge of the window, yelping as she fell into the room in an undignified heap.

Slowly getting up and smoothing her dress, she huffed and thought the most unpleasant (and colorful) thoughts about a certain hobbit who by now was resting comfortably in his cousin's home snoring to beat the band and content in the knowledge that he would be able to sleep in on the morrow without a contemptuous hobbit woman banging on his door. She closed the window and fumbled around for a candle and match.

Her search in the spare bedroom was in vain, so she felt along the walls until she came into the kitchen. The moon shone directly in the window, and she was able to find a candle and the matches (having discovered the matches in the silverware drawer during a spoon pilfering a few years back) and was able to light the candles in the kitchen and Bag End. She decided after a few minutes that she would light the front door too, because a dark front door would indicate to everyone that Bilbo was gone, and since he hadn't taken any trips since his parent's death 18 years prior, she knew that there would be less attention and suspicion on the house if it was lit like normal and not dark. She felt as though as long as she didn't show herself too much in the windows and used her cloak to hide her face as she lit the lamps outside that none would be the wiser.

Having done so, she suddenly realized that she was a tad bit hungry. Apparently, breaking and entering a hobbit hole and nearly killing oneself falling through a window in the process made one's appetite go up. Either that, or the simple explanation that she was a hobbit, who as a race tend to eat twelve meals a day, and hadn't eaten since she went to bed three hours prior, led her to search the three pantries that Bilbo had for something that would make a decent evening meal, er, snack.

Bilbo, of course, had thought of his departure, and made sure that no spoiling food would be present upon his return, however, like the spare bedroom, he had intended to clean out his pantries and give the food to his gardener after he closed the spare bedroom window, but like with that, had completely forgotten to do so after being so flustered by his peddler visitor. So one of his pantries was still packed to the brim and had plenty of food.

Lobelia located a trout as well as some potatoes and carrots, and set about cooking herself a second supper (or perhaps midnight snack, but then again she had been going to bed so early that it was not midnight at all, but according to her stomach that would have been about right so she went with that anyway). While the trout was sizzling in the skillet, she set about slicing a lemon and gathering some salt and honey and biscuits.

The fire crackling as she used the spatula to place the trout on her plate, she tucked a napkin into her dress (having hung her cloak up on one of the pegs by the door) and began to adorn the fish with squeezed lemon juice, all the while making herself perfectly at home. As she squeezed the lemon, she closed her eyes and imagined as though this beautiful home was hers and hers alone. She smiled evilly at the thought.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing. She opened her eyes suddenly, very confused. For half a second she didn't move, the lemon juice from the wedge in her hand all spent. Then she quickly sat up and smoothed her dress and hoped that it wasn't one of her hobbit neighbors, or heaven forbid, the Shirriffs, and as she strode toward the door, she dared to hope that it was simply a drunk hobbit who had gotten the wrong hole, and would hopefully be none the wiser as she shooed him away and hoped that he wouldn't remember a thing about it in the morning.

So needless to say she was very surprised to see a large bald dwarf at the door. Her look of surprise was quickly masked as she realized that this dwarf couldn't possibly know her from Bilbo, as she had never seen this dwarf in the Shire before, and of the few dwarves she had seen, Bilbo generally had made a huge effort to avoid them at all costs. So the odds of this one being a good friend of Bilbo's was about as good as a two headed sheep flying through the sky. She had a general dislike for dwarves anyway, being the wandering, boisterous folk they were, and so merely put on her "Lobelia" stare and crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at the large dwarf.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the long delay. This is my first fanfic and I have my hands full with an almost 4 year old and an almost 1 year old plus suffering from fatigue issues, so please don't be mad at me! I know, being a reader myself, I hate to wait so long for updates, so I promise I will try to make sure that I update more frequently! Thanks to all who reviewed and are following-I love happy reviews so please keep them coming! Also, I do not own any of the characters or the Hobbit (just the AU storyline) those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reull Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence. _

Dwalin was a warrior. He had fought for the Royal line of Durin since he was old enough to be allowed a commission as part of the Royal Guard for Prince Thorin. He was there in the ranks when the dragon Smaug broke through the front gate of Erebor and, like his shield brother and closest friend, narrowly missed being trampled to death by the fiery monster. He was there at the great battle of Azanulbizar at the very steps of Moria, battling giant Gundabad orcs twice his size, and followed his Prince in the final desperate charge against the hordes of reckless hate. When Thorin's grandfather was beheaded and his father Thrain vanished, Dwalin had not hesitated to follow Thorin as his King.

So, when his exiled friend, shield brother and King, Thorin Oakenshield, called for help on the quest to reclaim Erebor and defeat the accursed dragon that had caused his people so much ruin and cursed them to a life of wandering and poverty, and aid in helping the dwarves reclaim their long forgotten homeland and gold, Dwalin answered the call without hesitation. He had sworn an oath to protect the House of Durin with his life until age took him, or death defeated him. And nothing, not even a formidable and fearsome fire drake from the north would make him break his oath. So he journeyed to the place Thorin had referred to as the Shire, east of Ered Luin. Those who answered Thorin's call were to meet there at the hobbit hole of an esteemed Mr. Baggins as per Gandalf's request.

Personally, Dwalin had no idea why they needed to bother with one of the gentlehobbits in the first place. Though he had never personally met one, what he had heard in his travels from the men and other dwarves who had met hobbits was that they were a peaceful folk. They loved their good food and ale (being a dwarf, he did too, but that was beside the point), they loved their tilled earth and gardens, and by no means were a warlike folk in any way. They were gentle souls, and from what he had gathered the only weapons that hobbits likely carried were walking sticks. A few may be decent archers, but that was primarily for hunting and not very useful. Dwalin scoffed at that. Dwarves generally didn't care too much for "elvish" weapons such as the bow. If he was going to be in a fight, he preferred to be up close and personal to his opponent, not hiding away like a coward, shooting his target before they could know who killed them.

So why Gandalf had insisted that one of these gentlehobbits could be useful on this journey across Middle-earth, let alone face a dragon, is beyond him. He was annoyed enough that they were being forced to be sneaky and "clever" as Gandalf put it to defeat the dragon instead of going against it with an army. Although, he supposed, they would have to get a mighty large one, because last time an army faced Smaug it didn't go quite as planned. Hence why this quest was necessary in the first place.

So one can imagine that Dwalin was rather unimpressed when a lady hobbit answered the door with an annoyed huff and her hands on her hips. _This must be his wife, _he supposed. He took a low bow, never taking his eyes off the seemingly annoyed and rather confused hobbit lass at the door.

"Dwalin, at your service," he stated simply. Inwardly, he winced. Not that he was keen on the idea of a hobbit joining their company in the first place, but if Gandalf insisted, it was not wise to cross a wizard, and they could most certainly use HIS help on this quest-surely a wizard would be an invaluable asset against a dragon. And so the hobbit must come, if Thorin could be convinced. However, looking at the hobbit lass before him, he figured that even if they could convince Thorin, the hobbit surely won't want to go on a suicidal quest such as theirs if he would have to leave his wife and family behind. He entered the smial, much to the astonishment and sputtering of the hobbit lass, and tossed his cloak at her.

"Well! I never!" Lobelia sputtered, barely catching the cloak before it hit her full in the face. _What on earth is a DWARF doing here?! What sort has that idiot Bilbo Baggins gotten himself involved with now? Ruffians, the lot of them. Ought to settle down in one place and leave the respectable folk well enough alone, _she thought to herself. But she took one glance at the large, muscled, scarred, and tattooed bald dwarf (and the rather large warhammer and twin battle axes he had set next to the wall), and decided that she would get rid of him, however she might have to modify her words a bit so that the dwarf would leave willingly. She could probably catch him unawares with her frying pan or umbrella, but she had no misgivings about her lack of ability to cart the monstrous dwarf out of the house. She highly doubted she would be able to lift him, let alone drag him out. He probably weight four times as much as her easily.

She was forced to pull her mind back to the present at the dwarf staring at her muttering something.

"What?" She snapped. If she didn't figure out a way to get this dwarf out of here soon, the neighbors may wake and there would be no explaining out of this one.

Dwalin grunted, hungry and impatient and more than a little annoyed at the fact that she had ignored him for the last five minutes.

"Is it down here?" he asked.

"Is what down where?" she asked, a bit confused.

"Supper. He said there'd be food, and lots of it," Dwalin answered, sniffing the air. He followed the smell down to the kitchen and made himself at home, digging into her supper before she had a moment to collect her wits.

"And just what do you think you are doing, barging into this house and eating MY supper, you hooligan!" She shouted. The dwarf looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"My business is with your husband, Bilbo Baggins, and not yours, lass. I don't feel the need to discuss it with a mere woman," he growled between mouthfuls.

Lobelia stood there and glared. Bilbo Baggins, HER HUSBAND?! She would sooner marry a cave troll. And MERE WOMAN? She reached for the frying pan still sitting next to the fire, and before Dwalin knew what was happening she had grabbed her plate away from him and smacked him on the head with a resounding gong. He slumped forward, out cold, the lump on his head growing bigger.

Lobelia huffed. Well, now what to do? The dwarf was too heavy for her to lift, as she had suspected. She did manage to push him over onto the floor where he landed in quite the undignified heap. Figuring that her dinner was useless now that that impudent dwarf had pawed the entirety of it with his filthy hands (seriously, he couldn't even bother to wash?) she dumped the rest of it into the fire.

As she scraped the last remnants of it from the frying pan, another ring sounded at the doorbell. She took another quick glance at the dwarf, and surmised that he was out cold and wasn't likely to wake up in the next few minutes. She wielded her frying pan, and made for the door. Surely one of her neighbors had heard the racket and she would be dead before she let word get out about her recent "acquisition" of Bag End. If her umbrella was enough to persuade the majority of the hobbits to leave her be, a frying pan in her hands was sure to make even the most gossipy of hobbits silent.

She opened the door with one hand, hiding the frying pan behind her at the ready. She stared in surprise as another dwarf, much smaller and more friendly looking than the first, grinned and bowed deeply at her.

"Balin, at your service," he said smiling, his white hair gleaming in the moonlight, "And might I say, I was under the impression from Gandalf that Mr. Baggins was a bachelor, but I gather he was wrong. How do ye do, Mrs. Baggins? I dare say, you look quite lovely this evening." Now, of course, she was no spring chicken, and was rather plain even as a young lass, but Balin was simply trying to be polite. He may have never married, but he knew that womenfolk often liked to be complimented in such a manner, and he did not want to risk offending their burglar to be.

Lobelia stuttered. Unlike the last dwarf, this one was at least polite. And if her ego wasn't a little stoked at being called lovely, well, the least she could do was not whack this kindly old dwarf over the head. Besides, if there is one thing that Lobelia respected, it was elders. Especially since that was a lesson that she quite frequently mentioned to the wayward hobbit lads and lasses that crossed her wake. So she would simply have to try and make sure this dwarf didn't catch sight of the unconscious one in the kitchen, and see if she could use her apparent beauty to persuade him to leave quietly.

"Am I late?" Balin asked, rubbing his hands together. The night was a bit chilly with the stars out, and his old bones suspected it will rain later. Now it was really Lobelia's turn to be confused. And a disturbing feeling started in her stomach.

"Late for what?" She asked, tense. What on earth had Bilbo Baggins done this time? A groan issued from the kitchen, and Lobelia's eyes grew wide. The big dwarf was waking up!

"Surely you kn-What was that?" Balin asked her.

"Nothing! Probably just the house settling. Old houses tend to do that you know!" Lobelia said quickly, hoping her panic didn't carry through her voice. A groan sounded again, and the scrape of boots across stone quickly followed. Balin hurried into the kitchen before Lobelia could stop him.

"Brother what happened?" Balin cried upon seeing Dwalin sit up shakily, holding his head and moaning. Balin knelt down next to his brother and looked worriedly into his face.

"Blessed if I know," Dwalin replied, "One minute I was sittin' here eating supper, and the next minute I'm waking up on the floor with two miners in my head determined to find mithril!"

Lobelia tried to discreetly put the frying pan back on the counter, but she missed and the pan hit the floor with a loud bang. Balin and Dwalin both jumped, and Dwalin groaned again. Lobelia silently debated if she should just run home as fast as she could, or stay and explain that she had just knocked the older dwarf's apparent brother over the head with the frying pan, but Balin had already deduced what happened. He eyed her, then the remains of the fish in the fire, then the pan and looked up at her, no doubt expecting an explanation.

"Well, what did you expect me to do?" Lobelia huffed, "This whelp barged into my home, threw his cloak at me, and helped himself to MY supper! And if that was bad enough, he didn't even have the decency to wash first!"

Balin looked again at her, then his brother, and finally the slightly dented frying pan, and burst out laughing.

"By Mahal lass. Not many can get the drop on my brother and live to tell about it!" he guffawed. Dwalin sent him a dirty look, but Balin ignored it, still chuckling.

"That'll teach you to just take someone's plate and not wash before supper, now won't it?" he managed between his chortles. Dwalin glared at the two of them.

"Gandalf said there'd be food and lots of it! How was I supposed to know that the supper wasn't for us?" he spat as Balin helped him up and to the arm chair in the living room, Lobelia in tow.

"Perhaps the fact that there was only ONE plate on the table would have given you a clue!" Lobelia bit back. Balin and Dwalin looked at her curiously.

"One plate?" Balin asked.

"Then where is Mr. Baggins' plate? And come to think of it, where is Mr. Baggins?" Dwalin asked, eyebrows raised. Lobelia paled. This evening was NOT going how she expected it to.

Before she could answer, the doorbell rang a third time. Lobelia practically sprinted to the door, hoping to put off their question as long as possible, even if it meant more dwarves invading Bilbo's house. _Well, he was always compulsively neat, _she thought, _I can only imagine his face seeing his house invaded by these messy heathens. _She almost chuckled at the thought. She liked tidiness and order as well, but the thought of how poor Bilbo would have reacted was just too funny for words. She opened the door.

"Fili-" the blond dwarf said.

"And Kili-" the dark haired dwarf followed.

"At your service" the two young dwarves said and bowed in unison. They stood back up and grinned at Lobelia.

"You must be Mrs. Boggins!" Kili said enthusiastically.

"Well, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house!" Lobelia stated, moving to shut the door. The last thing she needed was what looked like tween dwarves on top of the mess she was already in. She did not like the mischievous glint in their eyes at all, especially the young one with mere scruff, who was looking at her now in shock as he stopped the door with his boot.

" What?! Has it been canceled?" he asked, almost in a panic.

"No one told us," Fili said, glancing to his brother and then looking back at her suspiciously.

Flustered, Lobelia countered, "What? No, nothing's been canceled-" Kili cut her off.

"Well, that's a relief!" He said, barging in and nearly knocking her over with the force of the door. She sputtered and spat, interrupting elders and sheer rudeness by young ones was not tolerated by her at ALL. His brother (they must be brothers, they don't look alike but they seemed to think as one) strode in behind him quite as if he owned the place himself, before turning and dumping his double scabbard into her arms. She shot her arms out to catch it before she even realized what she was doing.

"Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened," he said, pulling four throwing axes out of his boots, a knife out of his tunic, and two hunting knives out of his bracers. She looked at the growing pile of weapons in her arms, too dumbfounded to speak. This young dwarf was armed to the teeth it seems. Who in their right mind would let such a young child have so many weapons?! Added to that is the quiver and sword that his brother had bestowed upon her shoulder, and she couldn't do much else. If they added any more weapons she was afraid she would drop the lot of them, and not all of Fili's knives were sheathed. She didn't want to risk injuring herself on top of everything else.

"Fili, Kili come on. Give us a hand," Dwalin ordered, walking (slightly unsteadily) into the foyer, and slinging his arm about Kili's shoulders.

"Mr. Dwalin," Kili looked up at his mentor, smiling. Fili followed after dumping his weapons in Lobelia's arms. She was too gobsmacked to make anything of this invasion, as she was starting to call it, and followed them as the four dwarves started rearranging Bilbo's dining room. Suddenly, the doorbell rang for a fourth time, and at this point she had had enough. The whole of Hobbiton would be awakened by this by now, and then there would be no escaping for her.

"Oh, no no! There is nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in this dining room as it is! If this is some clotheads idea of a joke," here she emitted a little sinister laugh, "I can only say, it is in VERY poor taste!" She grabbed the handle of the door and swung it open so hard, and gasped and jumped back as a whole PASSEL of dwarves fell at her feet. 8 MORE DWARVES! She let out a squeak. Then suddenly she noticed a taller figure in grey robes behind the dwarf pile peering in, a look of confusion settling upon his features as he met her gaze. She found her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Gandalf" she sputtered, "Nice evening, isn't it?" She was done for.


	4. Chapter 4

**_I do not own any of the characters or the Hobbit (just the AU storyline) those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reull Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence._**

**_Note- I am so, so sorry that this story got sidelined for so long! There are three stories of mine in the works, and it seems my mommy brain can only focus on one at a time without derailing! I know this chapter is short, and it will take a while to get back into the swing of this story, but I haven't abandoned it, I promise! I just need to sort of remember where I was headed with it that's all. Enjoy!_**

Gandalf stared at Lobelia Sackville-Baggins curiously with one eyebrow raised. He was no stranger to Bilbo's (and most of Hobbiton's) extreme dislike of her. He also knew quite well that his plans must have gone very awry indeed if this is the hobbit who answered the door.

The heap of dwarves were grumbling in the large pile by the door. Someone's muffled voice hollered, "Get off me you big lug!" followed by an "Ow!" and a few rather creative curses. Somehow the eight dwarves managed to untangle their many wayward limbs and immediately were joined by the four who had already arrived.

Lobelia could only watch in horror as the twelve dwarves did what she could only describe as pillaging the entire pantry. She fought tooth and nail at the dwarves, who were content to grab whatever they could get their filthy hands on and cart it into the table. On top of that, some of Bilbo's old (and valuable) antique chairs were being carted into the dining room as though they were common chairs!

Lobelia huffed, and did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed her umbrella and started whacking whomever she could reach, screaming, "Get your filthy hands off those chairs this instant!"

Gloin dropped the chair he was carrying when her umbrella smacked his hand.

"Ow!" he growled, "What in Mahal's name was that for? Don't they teach hobbit lasses manners?!" Lobelia sputtered indignantly, face turning purple.

"MANNERS?!" she screeched at the top of her lungs, freezing all the dwarves in place as they stared wide eyed at what they perceived to be a rather crazy woman with an umbrella. "You come into MY home, and help yourself to MY food, MY dishes, and MY antique chairs-which are NOT for sitting on, by the way- and you have the audacity to say that _I_ have no manners? Out, the lot of you! Out!"

She began swinging her umbrella viciously, and the dwarves began to cry out as it hit their heads, their arms, really anywhere she could reach.

"Ow!"

"Now, lass, there's no need for—AH!"

"Watch it!"

"Mahalu-me turg!"

"Now, lass, we really didn't mean—No! Not the beard!"

She herded the dwarves toward the foyer mercilessly, and then realized as a few of them grabbed weapons for sheer self defense that that probably hadn't been her best idea. Dwalin grabbed his two large axes and growled at her, and Lobelia froze, her hands on her hips.

"Now, if any of you happen to have any of MY things in your pockets, empty them now!" she said sternly. The confused dwarves looked between her and Gandalf, who eyed the furious hobbit lass with amusement as she wielded a mere umbrella against a group of heavily armed dwarves.

Suddenly the wizard started laughing heartily, and thirteen pairs of eyes looked at him in bafflement.

"Well, I do believe that Mr. Baggins has seen fit to stay in the Shire for the time being," he said, when his laughs had died down to chuckles. The dwarves looked at him, some with looks of bewilderment, and others with looks of incredulity.

"I told you it was a waste of time coming here, Gandalf," Gloin muttered.

"Aye, that's true enough," Dwalin said, still glaring at Lobelia. "Hobbits would be useless against a dragon." Several of the others nodded in agreement. Lobelia stared at the wizard, thoroughly confused now, all sense of hiding her activities from her neighbors gone.

_Dragon?_ _What dragon? Bilbo Baggins, you crazy hobbit, what on Middle-earth have you gone and done now?_ She thought.

"Now I didn't say that," Gandalf said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked at Lobelia. The dwarves sputtered and looked at him aghast.

"Let us continue on with dinner, shall we? Then, once Thorin arrives, we can begin to discuss more important matters," the wizard continued. The dwarves heartily agreed. They began to move toward the dining room, when Lobelia stood in the doorway and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"No one is going anywhere or eating anything until someone explains what's going on!" she said firmly, staring the dwarves in the eye. Gandalf sighed.

"Gandalf, I thought you said you met with Mr. Baggins yesterday morning, and told him about our quest," Balin said, looking at the wizard in confusion.

"Yes, my dear Balin, I did. However, this _Ms. Baggins_ is not related to Bilbo quite in the way you think," he said, casting a long look at Lobelia with one eyebrow raised. Lobelia gulped and her face paled. The dwarves looked at her in question.

"Shall you introduce yourself, my dear?" Gandalf asked her, giving her a stare that told her she had better start at least smoothing the ground a bit. "Starting with why you happened to be in Bilbo's house alone on such a fine evening?"

Lobelia gaped, her mouth opening and closing of its own accord, but no words came out.

She was going to be in so much trouble.

_Curse you, Bilbo Baggins._


End file.
